Magister de Morte
by I Am Venator
Summary: Harry Potter is the Master of Death. His first mission as Master of Death leads him to a universe where technology rules and wizards truly are myth, but Norse gods, aliens, super spies and many other 'impossible' things are real. Inexperienced about his new title, Harry's tactic is to wing it and hope a certain god of mischief doesn't get too interested in him. (first try summary)
1. Prologue

_**A/N:  
Hello! So, this is my first fanfic **__**ever**__** so please no flames (constructive criticism is welcome!), please alert me of anything I've gotten wrong and I will try to fix my errors as soon as possible. Other than saying that both the Harry Potter and Avengers franchises belong to the brilliant minds that created them, there's nothing else to say so go on and read my story (please?)**_

* * *

**Prologue**

Harry stared dumbly at the object resting on his bed innocently. He blinked, expecting it to disappear seeing as it was a figment of his imagination. It didn't. In fact, it seemed like it was watching him, and that made him nervous, seeing as how it didn't have anything that could resemble a face, not even in the vaguest way. Yet Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, followed by an oppressing weight on his entire being. He did not like that feeling, only having experienced it with one other person. But it was impossible for that person to be able to incite that feeling on him, for one, that person had not been able to do so for quite some time, secondly, that person can't be here, because thirdly, that person had died less that twenty-four hours ago, no longer the infamous dark lord known as Voldemort. He felt like he should look around, find the source of his uneasiness because it was impossible for it to be coming from the object on his bed. He'd look around, find the cause, and walk out of the room.

Any minute now.

He'd avert his eyes and examine the room.

Very soon.

Even sooner than soon.

Right now.

But he didn't. Harry's gaze was fixated on his bed, on _it_. Behind his eyes a memory replayed: looking at Hermione and Ron, revealing the truth before snapping the wood in two and hurling the remnants over the side, never to be seen again. At least _thought_ to never be seen again, yet there it was in one piece, and laying on his bed. He blinked again, it was still there. Harry's legs moved of their own volition and soon he was right next to the bed, leaning against the soft edge, peering down disbelievingly. He saw his hand reach down and pick up the smooth wood, watched as it was brought closer to his face. He turned it over, inspecting the evenly spaced knobs and tapering end. He blinked yet again, in Harry's hand was the one and only Elder Wand.

"I broke you. I threw you away." He told the wand after a moment of silence. Its reply was to hum in his grasp, unnerved, Harry switched it to his spare hand, hoping to dispel the aftershocks in his left hand. This led to Harry widening his eyes in surprise, now investigating the golden ring on his right middle finger: a medium sized band of gold encircled his finger, patterns resembling scales of all things were carved into the circlet. What got him though was the stone cemented on the ring, diamond in shape, an indecipherable colour that really depended on the light, and the Hallows imprinted within. On Harry's finger was the one and only Resurrection Stone.

"And I dropped you. On purpose I might add." He mentioned to said stone. As a response it glowed. Harry just blinked. At that moment he felt a familiar weight settle on his shoulders. With a sideways glance, he confirmed that he was now wearing the Invisibility Cloak, without being invisible. He frowned at that but was distracted by the door opening to reveal Ginny, Ron and Hermione. The smiles all faded from their faces and quickly turned into surprise and concern as they observed Harry's new getup. The surprise was appropriate but the concern was out of place, that was, until he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His face was contorted into one of a being in immense pain, his eyes filled with terror and horror. He looked back to the three people in the doorway. He opened his mouth to tell them he was fine, albeit confused, but what came out was a cry of absolute despair, "…help." Ginny was the first to react, lunging forward only to be flung back with great force into Hermione, knocking them both out cold. Ron's body went rigid as he took a step towards Harry, his eyes clouded over but he took another step.

Ron stop! Was the intended demand, "…hurtsss." Was what came out, slightly slipping into Parseltongue. Harry decided that that was a good time to drop the Elder Wand, or at least, he tried. Looking down he tried for the second time to drop the wand but his hand wouldn't release it. What in Merlin's name is this! He used his other hand to pry open his fingers, or at least tried to.

"Harry!" Harry jerked his head up to see Ron reaching out towards him, Harry shook his head fervently, trying to tell Ron not to come closer. The redhead paused, slightly retracting his arm.

"Harry?" He repeated, his voice muffled as though travelling through water, or a particularly weak muffliato spell. He shook his head again, not trusting his words anymore and nodded towards the two girls. Ever the good patriot. A snide voice in his head said, Harry quickly shushed it and repeated his action. Ron looked hesitant but nodded, heading towards Hermione and Ginny. They better be alright, Harry fretted. Positive that Ron wouldn't put himself in danger, Harry preceded to try and drop the Elder Wand, a seemingly impossible task as his hand would just _not_ open! A pulling in his navel made Harry gasp, causing Ron to immediately raise his head. Another tug and Harry was forced down to his knees and he winced at the pain lancing up his legs.

"Harry!"

I'm fine Ron! Turned into, "…dying…" And with a start Harry realised that was true. Slowly, he locked gazes with his best mate and saw the understanding in his eyes. Harry opened his mouth but another pull made him press tightly against the ground, he gritted his teeth and tried to stand up.

"HARRY NO!" Ron's scream was the last thing Harry ever heard for a long time. A really long time. The floor was the last thing he saw for a long time, something he wasn't very happy about. He could feel though, he felt his body slip away from the mortal realm, instantly knowing that only his soul should have been taken.

* * *

He felt the Wand in his hand, solid and real.

He felt the slight burden of the Stone on his finger, cool and anchoring.

He felt the Cloak slide over his shoulders, soft and reassuring.

They were the only things keeping him from insanity while he travelled to… he didn't know where he was travelling. Nor for how long. It felt like less than a minute, or it could've been more than a year. He really didn't know, and that frightened him. He remembered the first time he had 'died', where he was at King's Cross Station, he'd spoken to Dumbledore again, a privilege he'd thought long gone. He also remembered Nearly Headless Nick speaking of going to a place similar to King's Cross Station, the place where everyone went when they died. Perhaps it was because he'd already been there, because he'd already seen that place, walked in that place. That is why he hadn't journeyed there again. It was the only possible answer. Why else would he be here? Wherever "here" is. Alone, with no sounds, no light. Wasn't there meant to be a feeling of peace? Wasn't there meant to be thousands of people? Wasn't there meant to be Dumbledore? Sirius? Mum and Dad? Wasn't there meant to be _something?_ Instead of this nothingness, where he could not see nor hear, where he only felt the Hallows. The Hallows… why does he have them? He only kept the cloak, the wand and stone he discarded, not wanting to hold the items that Voldemort had so craved. Not wanting to hold that much power. Not wanting to hold… _Death_. The name echoed around him, startling him into realising he can hear again.

"Hello?" He spoke, but nothing came out. He tried again, but still didn't hear anything. Only in his head. Harry screamed, or at least, thought he did. He screamed until his throat was sore and dry from overuse. Then he screamed some more. Years passed, or was it minutes? He couldn't tell the time. Had no way of telling the time, having tried to count in his head but always getting lost after the seventh second. Or was it the seventieth? He even tried casting a tempus charm, the Elder Wand still in his hand but that was a lost cause seeing as he couldn't well, _see_. Harry thought he should be afraid, be afraid of the nothingness around him, be afraid of the solitary confinement, or at least be afraid of something. But he only felt a sense of wariness, not unease but wariness. Something cold brushed past him and he called out. No reply, or none that he could hear. Harry took a step forwards, or perhaps it was back, or to the left, or right, he really didn't know. He called out again, hoping his voice was loud enough for whoever was there to hear him.

_You have arrived Magister._

* * *

The voice was in his head but not his own. Ethereal, whispery and all-consuming, it flowed over him like water. Harry opened his eyes and exhaled slowly, couldn't possibly of had his eyes closed that whole time, right? Yet he could see again. His first decision was to contemplate his surroundings. Which was nothing. Harry blinked but the scenery did not change, or lack thereof. All he could see was blackness, in front of him, to the left, right, above and even below.

Nothing. He was virtually standing on nothing as there was no floor, no walls, no ceiling.

No _nothing_.

_Be not anxious my Magister._

Harry jumped, though in this particular environment he didn't know how.

"Hello?" He inquired, his voice hoarse and unlike its normal baritone. But that may be because of his countless hours of screaming, or minutes.

_Greetings Magister._

Harry jumped again, not quite liking the idea of someone else's voice in his head, remembering all too well the lessons with Professor Snape. That thought made him sad and remorseful.

_Ease your mind Magister, death is not a sorrowful event._

The voice consoled.

"Who are you?" Harry questioned, slightly ignoring the fact that the voice's words had in fact made him feel better.

_I am Death, Magister._

Harry blinked, it being an easy action to use when his mind was in turmoil.

"Death?"

_Yes, Magister._

Well, this is new. Harry glanced around and asked, "Where are you?"

_Everywhere Magister. Death is everywhere._

"Okay… um, why can't I see you? Shouldn't I be able to since I'm dead?"

_You are not dead Magister. Merely transforming._

"Wha..? What do you mean "transforming"?"

_I gifted three wizards with the Hallows Magister, together they enabled the wielder to be Master of Death._

"I know that already," Harry said impatiently.

_Apologies Magister, I am simply explaining as to the most beneficial for you._

"Uh, okay…" He said somewhat hesitantly. "Wait, why do you keep calling me "Magister"? What does it mean?"

_Latin is the language of the immortal realm, Magister and Master are one and the same._

"What!" Harry may or may not have squeaked, "But-but." He flustered, "I don't want to be the Master of Death! I don't want to be the Master of anything!"

_That is why Magister, only they who are worthy may behold the name Magister de Morte._

Harry let out what many would call a hysterical laugh, "I'm not worthy of anything! Neville is worthier than me, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Fred, Mrs Weasley, Mr Weasley, Mrs McGonagall, _anyone_!"

_Thee who crave not the title, thee who desires balance, shall be the Master of Death._

"Uh, what?"

_It is the aphorism of the dead Magister._

"You do know that doesn't help right? And why can't I see you?" He added as an afterthought. Suddenly, an alienated figure materialised directly in Harry's line of sight. Stooped over, garbed in cloth that he could only resemble to his Invisibility Cloak, with unnaturally long limbs, neck and face. Or skull, would be the appropriate term.

"Bloody Hell, you look exactly like I'd pictured you." Was the first thing to pop out of Harry's mouth. "I mean! I-I- I'm sorry." Harry mumbled, flushing with embarrassment. A bemused chuckle echoed in Harry's head, whilst the figure's shoulders moved in the throes of laughter.

_You need not apologise Magister, my form is different to all who see me. _

"What do you mean by that?"

_There are many dimensions alike with yours Magister. Many with unique ways of how they perceive the form of Death._

"Oh, I get it, I think." Harry supplied, trying to sound more intelligent than he felt. "Hey, you haven't told me the "transforming" thing." He reminded Death. The person in question bowed their head.

_You are, simply put, dying and being rebirthed._

"What!" The exclamation left his mouth before he could stop it and quickly continued, "I mean, I don't feel like I'm dying…"

_That is because you already have Magister._

Harry's answer was to blink. Already dead? Was that what the whole 'nothingness' thing was? Him dying?

"Um, so what's happening now?"

_Your body is being reborn here, my dimension. You may call it the Veil, others Niflheim/Helheim, Heaven, Hell. It matters not, it is where all arrive when their time has come._

"How is that possible? How could something be born here?" Death smiled, impossible as it may seem.

_Perhaps you will be ready in the future to learn of my dimension Magister. But for now you must be content with the knowledge that you are Magister de morte, Master of Death, and so you are immortal until the worlds are once more balanced._

Harry paused for a moment, one for processing the new information, two for realising that that was the first time he'd heard Death speak for so long, three for coming to the conclusion that Harry Potter still seemed to be the one who everyone depended on.

"Was there ever a chance that I could be normal?" He wondered aloud.

_My apologies Magister, but you are Magister de Morte for a reason. No other being has held that title. No other being has the power to survive the title._

"So, because I'm classed as the most powerful wizard of all time, I'm the Master of Death?" Harry questioned resignedly.

_Power is not how you perceive it Magister. Power is the aura of a being. It is the soul, the strength, the thoughts, the essence. It is vaguely put, _you_ Magister._

"Me?"

_Your power is the purest Magister. Only you are capable of bearing the responsibilities of the Master of Death. Any other creature and they would be lead to insanity and demise._

"Insanity?" Harry said nervously.

_No fear Magister. You will not succumb to the dark forces._

"I'm seventeen." Was all he could say. Seventeen and the Master of Death. Great.

_Age does no longer occur for you Magister. You are timeless._

"Oh, okay." He couldn't help but feel sad about that, still harbouring the little boy who used to blow out his own fake candles. A passing thought made him ask, "Why is there no light here?"

_There is Magister, you are just willing yourself not to see them._

"But I do want to see them." He confessed, looking around.

_You are resisting Magister._

"Resisting what?" He returned his attention back to Death.

_Your fate Magister._

"You mean being the Master of Death?"

_Yes._

"How am I resisting it? To be honest it doesn't seem like something you can "resist"."

_It is your love for your friends and family Magister. You are resisting because you do not want to leave them._

"Well, I don't…" Harry mumbled, somewhat ashamedly.

_Love is nothing to regret Magister._

"I would never regret love." He defended.

_Regret and shame Magister, you cannot have one without the other lurking by._

"I don't regret love though!" He yelled, before taking a deep breath and adding, "I'm sorry. I just feel like it's selfish." Bowing his head and peering into the darkness.

_Wanting to have someone love you is not selfish Magister._

Death's form crept closer to Harry, a skeletal hand resting upon his shoulder in comfort. Harry immediately leaned into it, sighing contentedly as clarity washed over him. He looked up into Death's face – er skull – and smiled sheepishly. His attention was garnered by something to the left. He leaned over to examine it and gasped. Blue lights coalesced to form millions of glowing orbs.

"I'm not resisting anymore?" Harry asked, smiling at the landscape around him, now rivalling the breath-taking beauty.

_You accepted my embrace Magister, only one other has done so._

"My ancestor?"

_Yes Magister, he who was gifted the Cloak of Invisibility._

"Will I ever see them again?" To ask whom did not need to be said.

_In the end, everyone is reunited Magister._

"And when will that be?"

_Only time will tell Magister._

"Great." Enthusiasm was for some reason lacking. A ghostly chuckle sounded in his head, making himself smile weakly. Harry gazed at the lights around him. Death waited patiently as Harry stared, simply drinking in the ethereal beauty of Death's home. An eternity later, or was it a second? Harry calmly turned to Death and declared, "I'm ready." The orbs brightened to an almost blinding intensity before blinking out of existence. Harry couldn't help the cry that escaped his throat as darkness reclaimed his vision.

Harry waited. He waited for the darkness to disappear. He waited for his travelling to end. He waited for his mission to begin.

And while Harry waited, he learned. He learned of a dimension based solely on technology. He learned of human experiments. He learned of demigods.

While he learned, Harry aged. His mind matured, his emotions calmed, his aspect on the universe(s) morphed from an eager child to a proud parent.

_Thee who crave not the title, thee who desires balance, shall be the Master of Death._


	2. Chapter 1

**_A/N:  
I'm glad people have enjoyed the prologue (and I've actually labelled it prologue now) thank you to the people who have reviewed, followed and favourited this story I honestly didn't think many people would actually _****like****_ it. Still please no flames and I hope this chapter isn't a let down or anything. I'll update every weekend as long as I have reviews telling me to (please?) mainly because I want to know if people want this story to continue.  
(Thank you kharmachaos for pointing out my errors. Hopefully all mistakes have been fixed but if not please tell me and to jrock919, hopefully you're question will be answered in the next chapter)  
_****_SO, without further ado on to the story!_**

* * *

**Chapter One**

Harry felt it was safe to say his life was strange. He'd believed for ten years that his parents had died in a car accident, only to find out on his eleventh birthday that they'd actually been murdered by the most infamous wizard in all of wizard-kind, in an effort to save him. He'd met a half giant with a magical umbrella. He'd discovered that he was a celebrity, labelled "The Boy Who Lived". He'd gone from having no friends whatsoever to having two best friends all in a matter of days. He'd battled a troll. He'd been nearly eaten by a three-headed canine the size of a bus whose name was Fluffy. He'd also been nearly eaten by hundreds of gigantic spiders while trying to find a Basilisk. He'd found out the no. 1 criminal, Sirius Black was actually his godfather. He'd learned that his best mate's pet rat was actually a middle-aged man who'd been the cause of his parents' death. He'd gone back in time to save himself and his friends from a werewolf, also known as another professor of his. He'd avoided being burnt to a crisp by a dragon. He'd survived an attack by Voldemort at the cost of a friends' life. He'd taught a secret group how to defend themselves against the dark arts. He'd watched his godfather die in front of his eyes. He'd witnessed a chair turn into a man. He'd found out that one of the men he despised had been bullied by his father. He'd hunted down horcuxes in hope of eventually vanquishing the dark lord. He'd watched dozens of his loved ones die for him. He'd died and come back. He'd defeated the most powerful wizard in the world with a single word. And those were only a few of the most memorable events in his seventeen years of life. Now he was the Master of Death. He possessed knowledge that made the Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts combined look like toddlers who felt smart when they kne = 6.

So when Harry regained consciousness to feel the wind rushing past him and an extremely bumpy road beneath whatever vehicle he was crouching in, a vehicle which was going way too fast for his liking, he wasn't even surprised. He heard tires against gravel and gun shots. That brought on some concern. He opened his eyes just in time to see a tall figure in front of him cast something that looked suspiciously like a spell at a helicopter overhead. A person leaped out of said helicopter almost as soon as it was hit and Harry followed his movements. Causing him to not notice the figure in front of him turn around to see Harry less than a foot away from him. Harry's attention was returned to the 'spell caster' due to a sharp sceptre lodged against his throat. Okay then, not a wand. Instead, it was at least triple the size of a wand with a crab's claw end and a glowing blue sphere in the middle of said crab's claw.

"Who might you be?" The owner of the Crab's Claw demanded. Harry met his gaze and blinked. Light skinned, black hair down to his shoulders, dark green eyes and defined features. Attractive if you were into the whole "psychotic" thing. He reminded him of Snape in a vague sort of way. The sceptre pressed harder against his throat when he didn't reply. Still not replying, Harry looked at the rest of the man and raised his eyebrow at his outfit. Clothed in black leather pants and coat with a darker-shade-of-green-than-his-eyes long-sleeved top. The stranger in turn looked at Harry, slightly bemused by the dark blue sweatshirt and denim jeans, half concealed by the strange cloak. Startling green eyes and black hair, characteristics familiar to Loki, rough-looking features despite the overly round glasses. Loki couldn't help but think the kid was good-looking. Harry watched as the stranger's eyes fixed on his scar, revealed by the wind flattening his hair back and ground his teeth. A bullet whizzing by his head alerted Harry to the person who'd jumped off the helicopter, he then heard the crash of metal against earth.

"Love to stay and chat but I gotta check if that guy's alright." Harry commented before apparating right next to the downed helicopter, easily pulling the injured pilot out and dragging him a safe distance away just before the aircraft caught fire.

"You 'right mate?" He asked the pilot, his reply was to groan. Taking that as a "no", Harry then proceeded to heal the man's wounds and injuries with a few healing spells. Smirking to himself at the newfound knowledge granted to him by Death. This all took at least three seconds and when Harry was done he glanced up to see Crab Claw's owner staring at him whilst driving away.

"As of right now. We, are at war." Drifted down to Harry and he located the voice's owner to be the man who'd jumped out of the helicopter. As if feeling his eyes on him, the man turned and aimed his gun at Harry. Harry decided then was a good time to hide his wand, put his hands up in surrender and stand up slowly. The owner of the gun was wearing all black with a long black trench coat and black eyepatch over his left eye. Dark skinned with hard features and a serious expression. Harry tagged him with a 'caution, do not approach unless wanting horrible death'.

Harry didn't say anything as he watched Dark and Gloomy, making sure to not make any sudden movements while he took a step away from the pilot.

"Who," he said dangerously, "The fuck are you?" Harry raised his eyebrow at the man.

"Where the Hell did you come from?" He asked when it was obvious Harry wasn't going to answer. Well that was a great question now wasn't it? Maybe he should say "hello, my name is Harry Potter, I'm a wizard and come from another dimension. But, I've just come from the Veil which is where everyone dead goes but I didn't die you see because I'm the Master of Death. Don't worry I'm the good guy, I won't avada kedavra you because I think you're the good guy too!" Well that would go brilliantly now wouldn't it?

In lieu of an answer, he just shrugged. Harry's hand grasped his neck as he felt the pinprick of a needle puncture his flesh. He pulled out a dart and looked at it. Then he looked at Dark and Gloomy, then he looked at the woman in uniform standing a few feet away and holding a dart gun.

"Well. That wasn't very nice." He mentioned before fainting.

* * *

Fury observed the slumped figure on the screen. Detained in one of the many interrogation rooms built into the helicarrer he looked somewhat vulnerable. Restrained by handcuffs and chains, propped up on one of the two metal chairs – made of an alloy consisting of tungsten, palladium, silver and various other metalloid compounds – surrounding the table, which was of course made of the same alloy. A mess of raven hair obscured his face due to his chin resting on his chest. He pressed a finger on his earpiece, "Agent Hill, how long until Agent Coulson arrives?"

"Ten minutes sir." Was the reply. Fury switched his attention to the table in front of the screen. Examining the four objects warily. The first a ring, the second a weird looking stick, the third an enigmatic cloak, and the fourth an ordinary pair of round glasses. These were the only things confiscated from his prisoner. The ring, stick and cloak all emitted a strange signature when scanned so Fury thought it best to keep them in containment. The glasses had passed all tests, revealing that they were indeed just an ordinary pair of glasses. But being the paranoid man he was, Fury had taken them too, even if it was just to keep the man – boy would be better fitted, seeing as he couldn't be more than eighteen – at a disadvantage. Movement on the screen alerted Fury to discover the kid was now awake, and looking straight at the camera concealed within the wall. Fury gritted his teeth before leaving the containment room – one of many – with glasses in hand and headed to the interrogation room.

* * *

Harry looked at the blurry form of Dark and Gloomy as he entered from a seemingly solid wall, although that could have just been because of the lack of his glasses.

Harry looked at Dark and Gloomy.

Dark and Gloomy looked at Harry.

"He survived." Was the first thing he said.

"The pilot?" Harry sat up straighter.

"Yes, the pilot." Well there you go, saved a man in the first minute of being here, that must be a record.

"What I want to know," Dark and Gloomy continued, "Is why and how."

"Where are my glasses?" He demanded instead of answering. Dark and Gloomy raised a hand and Harry assumed his glasses were in said hand.

"Why and how?" He repeated.

"Why and how what?" Harry snapped.

"Why did you save him? And how did you save him?" He said slowly.

"Can I have my glasses back?"

"Once you've answered my questions." Harry slumped back in the chair, ignoring the uncomfortable position.

"Why?"

"Why not?" Harry said incredulously.

"Because in my line of work, no one helps the other side."

"Other side?"

"Our side, Loki's side."

"Okay. Who's Loki?"

"Don't play dumb with me kid."

"I'm not "playing dumb"." Harry growled, annoyed at being called "kid".

"Then why ask who Loki is?"

"Oh I don't know, maybe because _I don't know who Loki is_?" He said in a 'duh' voice.

"Yes you do, black hair, green eyes, glowing sceptre…"

"Oh, _that_ guy. Well how was I supposed know his name's Loki?"

"Because you were in the truck too."

"Wasn't my idea."

"Then whose idea was it?"

"That's, uh, classified." Harry replied, smirking. Woohoo for new knowledge!

"What, so you're MI6?"

"I'm what?"

"MI6."

"What the Hell is MI6?" Harry said exasperatingly. Before Dark and Gloomy could answer Harry continued, "You know what? Never mind, I don't want to know, why don't we just go back to the simple questions perhaps even some "yes" and "no" questions?"

"Fine, we'll go back to why you saved my guy." Harry faced the ceiling and shook his head, "I saved your guy because he was in danger. I think you might as well know that I'm all about saving people." He confessed with a bitter smile.

"How?" Dark and Gloomy didn't sound convinced but let it be for now.

"By pulling him out of the helicopter before it went up in flames." He stated disinterestedly. Both of them knew he was only telling the half-truth, but before Dark and Gloomy could point that out, he moved his hand to his ear and seemed to listen to something.

"It seems to be your lucky day kid." Was thrown over Dark and Gloomy's shoulder as he started towards the door.

"Oi, what about my glasses?" A door closing was his answer.

"What a prat." Harry muttered, leaning back into the chair and wondering where the Hallows were seeing as the bloke had obviously taken them. As if on cue, Harry wrapped his fingers around the Elder Wand. He blinked in surprise. The next second the Cloak settled over his shoulders and the weight of the ring was back on his finger. Okay… that's unnerving. Harry fumbled with the Wand until its tip pressed against the handcuffs.

"Alohomora," he whispered, smiling when the handcuffs slipped off his wrists and clanked onto the floor. Next he unlocked the chains restricting his ankles and then he was able to stand up and walk about, albeit slowly due to his lack of vision.

"Accio glasses." Instead of them flying into his hand, said glasses appeared instantly in his grasp. Harry shrugged and put it down to the workings of the Elder Wand before placing his glasses where they rightfully belonged. Now able to see, Harry took in his surroundings. It was an interrogation room, like the ones in those law enforcement shows Vernon used to watch. Just completely white and much more high-tech. Further examination made Harry glad that his glasses materialised in his hand, otherwise they would've slammed against the 'wall' and broken seeing as there was no opening in the room. He strode over to the wall he saw Dark and Gloomy escape from and cast, "Aloho-ahh!" Harry quickly used the wall for support as the whole room shuddered.

"What in Merlin's name is going on?" Harry demanded to the air. An image of a massive aircraft carrier with hybrid aerial propellers surfaced in his mind. It faded and Harry sent a "thank you" to Death, knowing that he was the reason Harry had seen the image.

"Alohomora." He repeated, aiming the Wand at the wall. A door opened in the seamless wall and Harry took a moment to look at it. Shaking his head he stepped out and felt the slightest tremor run through his body. He looked down, to see nothing.

"Now you start working." He told the Cloak before disappearing beneath it. Harry walked down multiple hallways before nearly crashing into someone. He clapped his hand over his mouth to stop any noises coming out and inspected the two. One was an absolutely gorgeous red head, wearing black pants and jacket with a red singlet. The man with her was very tall and muscular, with blonde hair and chiselled features, wearing a grey patterned button-down shirt and – for lack of a better word – old man pants. Harry blinked at the choice of attire while he followed them. Soon enough he was lead to what could only be the bridge of the ship/aircraft, where standing like the captain of it all was none other than Dark and Gloomy. Harry glared at him whilst moving to peer at the advanced screens. Many were of the ship/aircraft's maintenance, mechanical mojo and whatnot. While others showed a glowing cube labelled "TESSERACT". He later on discovered that Dark and Gloomy actually had a name, Director Fury. He also discovered the red-head was Agent Romanov, and the blonde-haired man was Steve.

"…cross-match 79%." Harry located the commotion to be one of the many screens. He slipped in near it to see Loki on the screen wearing a very formal outfit. The screen read Germany and also showed the area. With a smile Harry pictured the scene and apparated. Leaving behind a very paranoid Director Fury demanding "what the Hell was that noise?"

* * *

Harry watched with disdain as Loki towered over the kneeling people wearing a ridiculous golden helmet with horns and golden 'armour'. From his position on the edge of the stairs he could see the ripples through the fake Loki's and saw the fear etched in every single face. Another Voldemort. Just. Fucking. Great. Harry smiled proudly when an elderly man stood up to Loki.

"Not to men like you." His voice held no fear and Harry could see the shadows of war behind his eyes.

"There are no men like me." Loki declared. Well, _somebody's_ a megalomaniac.

"There are always men like you."

"Look to your elder people." Loki instructed, "Let him be an example." Harry cast a shield over the man just as the Crab's Claw fired at him. The spell – he really didn't know what else to call it – collided into his barrier and rebounded, hitting Loki and causing him to fall to the ground. Ha! That just happened to be the moment a man in a very American suit landed in front of the elderly man.

"You know, the last time I was in Germany, and saw a man standing above everybody else. We ended up disagreeing." He said standing up. Harry smacked his head, is that the best thing he could come up with? Even if he is Captain America. Wait, Harry squinted at the man. How'd he know that? Steve Rogers, a.k.a Captain America. One of the Avengers. Harry then looked to Loki, ignoring the two's conversation. Loki, god of mischief and lies, from Asgard. Huh, maybe he should hit himself in the head more often. Harry focused once more on the two, er trio now it would seem. A man in metal had arrived – Tony Stark, Iron Man – his mind supplied, and was holding his hands up, revealing the pulsing weapons beneath. Harry tilted his head at the ensemble, is everything in this dimension technologically advanced beyond its due time? Harry narrowed his eyes at the now surrendering Loki, registering the calculating glint in his eyes. He just then noticed the landing aircraft. Harry followed as Steve and Tony loaded Loki onto the aircraft, finding a seat at the back and acknowledging the redhead – Natasha Romanov/Black Widow – and waited.

* * *

Harry was resisting the urge to sigh loudly due to boredom when an unnatural storm literally appeared out of nowhere. Perking up, as Loki replied, "I'm not overly fond of what follows." Looking around somewhat skittishly. Harry smiled as information of Loki's brother, Thor, god of thunder, surfaced to the forefront of his mind. When Stark opened the hatch and said Asgardian made a notable entrance; Harry simply stood and waited as Thor knocked Stark over along with Rogers, grabbed Loki none too gently and exited the craft. Casting a weightless charm on himself, Harry seized hold of Stark's ankle as he too left the aircraft. Releasing his grasp, Harry rolled onto the rocky terrain as Stark tackled Thor.

"I'm listening." Loki pointed out snidely.

"Yes, well seeing as your brother is occupied at the moment I don't think you need to listen." Harry commented casually. Loki whirled around to his voice. When he was greeted by rock and air he demanded, "Who goes there?" Harry had the strangest urge to reply, 'it is I, Harry Potter!' but refrained and kept quiet. Loki peered about suspiciously, his gaze slipping over Harry's invisible form and continuing. A moment later recognition sparked in green eyes and Loki straightened from his defensive crouch, though his stance was still wary.

"The boy from S.H.I.E.L.D, I remember your voice." Harry winced, having forgotten about speaking briefly to Loki.

"Well you seem to have a bloody good memory." He announced banishing the cloak and stepping out from behind a rock, making it seem as though he'd been hiding behind it the whole time.

"I have lived for thousands of years." He stated smugly. Harry rolled his eyes, which made Loki's narrow in return.

"What?"

"I reveal that I am of an age unthinkable to you mortals and you express no sense of inferiority?" Harry huffed and sat down, opening his mouth but pausing. Normally he'd say that just because he was younger didn't mean he was inferior. But now he didn't actually know how old he was, did age even apply to the Master of Death? Or was he now 'timeless' as Death had so offhandedly put it? Harry just noticed that his mouth was still open and Loki was looking at him expectantly, "It's been my experience that _experience_ makes you superior, not age." He admitted.

"Oh? And what _experiences_ of yours could possibly precede that of mine? Mine that have accumulated over-"

"Thousands of years I get it." Harry interrupted exasperatingly. Loki glared, obviously not happy with being talked over by a 'mortal'.

"Hm, what experiences of mine?" Harry continued, "Well, I'm certain you haven't had as many experiences of nearly been eaten as me. Don't think you've been almost pulverised by a tree. Pretty sure you haven't been illegally punished in detention. Positive a professor of yours hasn't tried to erase your memories and leave you to die, all to write a book. Oh! What about-" Harry paused when he saw a far too interested Loki regarding him.

"Left you to die for a book?"

"To write a book actually." He corrected. Loki raised an eyebrow, the look in his eyes far too intrigued for Harry's liking. Definitely shouldn't have said anything.

"A professor? What kind of school did you go to?"

"Uh, a, different, school." He muttered, switching his attention to the ground.

"Different indeed." Harry looked up his eyes widening at how close Loki now was.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"I don't see why not." Loki replied.

"Why haven't you left?" Harry watched closely, noticing the minuscule curling of Loki's lips and flash in his eyes. Which wasn't actually that hard, seeing as Harry had to crane his neck back so he wouldn't be looking at the Asgardian's chest. Before Loki could answer though, he was pulled back by a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you alright sir?" Rogers asked.

"What are you doing out here kid?" Stark intoned.

"I'm fine, just enjoying nature and all." Harry drawled, leaning on his back and tucking his arms behind his head. Loki chuckled, earning a glare from everyone.

"At least I was until this bloke showed up." Harry added, returning his eyes to the sky and internally smiling at the handcuffs Loki was now wearing.

"There was no one here when we landed." Thor pointed out. His hand still gripping Loki's shoulder.

"Yes there was, you were just too preoccupied to notice." Harry commented. Thor frowned and opened his mouth but Harry bet him to it, "Human remember? We don't do the logical thing, instead we go check it out and normally die because of it. "Curiosity killed the cat" right?" Thor closed his mouth, unable to respond to that while Stark laughed and declared, "I like this kid." That happened to be the time the aircraft appeared, followed by Agent Romanov landing to the right of Harry and pointing a gun at him.

"That's not necessary ma'am." Rogers informed, making to step in front of her line of fire but Romanov moved away from him, the gun never wavering from Harry.

"Get Loki on board, Stark you stay." She instructed. Hesitant, Rogers lead Thor and Loki back to the aircraft while Stark was arguing with Romanov.

"He's just a kid, why are you pointing a gun at him for?"

"He's and escaped prisoner." Was her reply.

"I'd just like to state that I am completely innocent and that it really was wrong place wrong time."

"Shut-"

"-up." They said simultaneously. Harry hmphed indignantly.

"What's he done?"

"Fury says-"

"Oh of course!" Stark threw his hands up, "If _Fury_ says he's a criminal."

"Can I say something?" Harry inquired.

"No-" Romanov said.

"Yes." Stark said. Romanov glared sideways at Stark.

"Er, why don't I just make this easier and come along willingly?" Romanov regarded him suspiciously.

"What?" Stark guffawed. Harry rolled his eyes and stood up, ignoring the gun _still_ aimed at him.

"You two obviously aren't going to stop bickering like ten year-olds and I've already had an eventful day, so why don't we all call it quits and go annoy Fury?"

"I'm with the kid!" Stark supplied, slinging his arm over Harry's shoulders. Romanov didn't look entirely convinced but acquiesced. Harry was dragged along by Stark to the aircraft, forced into a seat next to the metal man and opposite Loki.

"So, why does Fury say you're a criminal?" Stark asked casually.

"Because I said, "that's classified" to one of his questions." Harry answered, pushing Stark's arm off his shoulders. Stark laughed again and introduced himself, "I'm Tony Stark, billionaire, philanthropist, Iron Man, and you are?"

"Harry Potter." He took Stark's offered hand and shook it. Stark then proceeded to name the others in the aircraft and Harry wondered what in Merlin's name he was supposed to do here.


	3. Chapter 2

**_A/N:  
I know I said I'd update in the weekend but I'd already had this chapter written. Also I've edited/fixed Chapter One and I thought it'd be mean if I updated but only with the resubmission of the previous and no new one. So here's Chapter Two, hope there's no mistakes but if there is PLEASE TELL ME and I hope you enjoy._**

* * *

**Chapter Two**

As soon as they landed, armed guards flanked Loki and escorted him away while another squad of guards swarmed Harry and marched him off. Harry followed without complaint.

"I don't suppose any of you know what MI6 is?" Harry asked randomly, turning left down yet another identical metal corridor. None of them replied.

"MI6? I assume it's some kind of agency, but why'd Fury think I was with them?" No reply.

"Do you normally detain MI6 people?" No reply.

"What does MI6 even stand for? Mm-e-ow. Wait no that doesn't sound right. Mm- me- my- ma- mi- maraca? No, `milk? No, macadamia? Mill? Moo? Macho? Mother? Magnet? Moon? Mouse?"

"For the love of God SHUT UP!" One of the guards snapped. Harry closed his mouth with a click and they turned left, right, left, left, forward, left. Harry mentally catalogued the path back to the deck. He stopped suddenly and exclaimed, "I got it! Muggle! Muggle Intelligence Six!" His smile faded to a frown, ignoring the guns that had appeared when he'd made sudden movements. "Wait, why is it six? Why not five or four or seven? Do they have a thing for the number six? What abo-?"

"The cloak, ring and stick wherever you're hiding it." One of them interrupted. Harry held his tongue and slipped the ring off his finger and dropped it into the awaiting palm of a guard. He pretended to get the wand out of his back pocket while summoning it and also handed that over.

"And the cloak."

"But it's cold." Harry whined.

"The cloak!" Harry sighed loudly and longer than necessary while presenting the cloak to the guard. The guard tentatively took it and Harry hid his smirk. Next thing he was pushed back and into a room, the door closing immediately behind him. He huffed at the door and commented, "Well that was bloody rude." Spinning around he took in his surroundings. Silver room, metal bed with a reasonable white mattress and white sheet. Toilet in a corner with a sink and clear mirror. Harry shook his head, "Still bigger than at the Dursley's," muttered under his breath. He strolled around the small compartment for a while, inspecting everything but doing a double-take at the mirror. What stared back at him was a stranger. His hair was darker, instead of reflecting the light it seemed to absorb it. His skin was paler than he remembered, porcelain white and flawless. His eyes seemed larger and rounder. The colour more vivid if that were even possible. Shadows hinted under his eyes, making them stand out even _more_. All in all, his whole appearance seemed ethereal and inhuman. No wonder Fury didn't trust him. As an afterthought Harry flattened his hair away from his forehead, the scar was still there, even paler than the rest of his skin. It seemed to be the only thing about him that hadn't changed. Sighing, he pushed off the sink and flopped onto the only slightly uncomfortable bed. To sleep or not to sleep? Did he even need rest? Or was he awake 24/7 with no sign of exhaustion whatsoever? Harry covered his face with his hands and dragged them down to his chin. Why did his life have to be so complicated? He closed his eyes and rested his head on the cool metal wall, an even colder hand pressed against his shoulder in comfort. Opening his eyes revealed the now familiar sight of Death.

_Magister._

Harry blinked and looked around. Everything around them seemed muted, the colours, smells, sounds. Almost as though he were looking in a pensieve.

"I don't think you should be here."

_You need not fear Magister, I have cloaked the room._

"Er, "cloaked"?"

_I am not seen, nor are you heard Magister._

Harry visibly relaxed and asked, "Should you be here though? They have these scan things that can detect _everything _and _anything_. They might-"

_Be not anxious Magister, nothing can detect Death._

Harry snorted, "Mrs Norris did, so did Mad-Eye Moody if I'm not mistaken."

_The Invisibility Cloak had no Master, it resisted to show its true potential, Magister._

"Huh, so what about now?"

_You are Magister de Morte, Master of the Hallows and of Death._

"Well, that answers that question." Harry replied rolling his eyes at his own stupidity.

* * *

"What the Hell is going on?" Fury demanded, glaring at the computer screen.

"Unknown sir," Hill answered, "There seems to be something blocking the scanners."

"Well get them unblocked." Fury snapped, observing the video feed with frustration. Natasha had informed him that the kid's name was Harry Potter, and as far as she could tell – which was always correct – he was telling the truth. Yet after ten minutes of all servers being scoured for any information on one "Harry Potter", _nothing _has been found, no shadowy organizations, no breadcrumbs, no whispers, no NOTHING. Now, watching the security cameras on Harry Potter's cell has led Fury to boiling point. When the kid had finally sat on the bed after inspecting himself in the mirror – something Fury noted quite interestedly – everything went quiet. No sounds were being recorded, not even the rustling of sheets or breathing. Nothing was being reported back by the scanners, no movements or changes in the air. The only that _was_ supplying anything useful were the visual feeds. All of which showed a very disturbing picture: Young Harry Potter had changed, the skin under his eyes and cheekbones had darkened considerably, making him look ghostly and definitely _not_ human. The eyes behind dorky round glasses _glowed_, literally fucking _glowed_. His whole stature grew, now tall and lanky but muscle was easily seen from the V in his sweatshirt. Harry Potter did not look like he belonged in the land of the living. He was speaking. What? No one was able to identify, something that was very nearly killing Fury.

"What damn language is he speaking?" Fury growled.

* * *

"Latin? But, I can't speak Latin." Harry grumbled. "Or is like how I can speak Parseltongue?"

_It is similar, yes, Magister._

"I asked you not to call me that. My name is Harry."

_Yet you are my Magister._

"I know, you don't have to go reminding me every second by calling me "Master" though."

_Apologies Magister._

Harry smacked his head, "Why do I even bother?" He quickly gave Death a look so it wouldn't actually answer that. Harry stood up and walked to the door, looking out the reinforced porthole.

_May I inquire as to what you are doing Magister?_

"Looking." Was his annoyed reply. He glanced at the mirror and gaped. "Why in Merlin's name am I looking like this for? And why are my eyes _glowing?_"

_Your power and status of Magister de Morte may alter your appearance when used, Magister._

"Great," he glared at his appearance and a thought surfaced to the front of his mind, "Wait, why do I still need glasses?"

_It was thought that keeping something from your mortal life would help with the transition, Magister._

"Well the transition is all finished and honestly? I never liked having to wear glasses, they were- are, a hindrance and disadvantage in a fight." Death bowed its head.

_Do you wish for me to heal you Magister?_

"Yes." Harry responded instantly. A part of his mind would miss his glasses, they really are the only thing that connected him with his old life. His scar was a silent message of how he escaped death, but his glasses were a reminder of his mortality. Yet they had no part in his role as Master of Death.

Yes," he repeated and Death glided closer, its skeletal hand outstretched. He lifted his glasses and Death's fingers brushed his closed eyes. A pleasant burning sensation tickled behind his eyes and when Harry opened his them, he could see. Every tiny little detail, the almost imperceptible shadows between ruffled sheets, the smallest dent in a wall, the dust particles hovering in the air.

"I think you went over the top." He commented, a smile curling his lips as he looked at Death.

_Perhaps Magister._

Harry quirked an eyebrow, who knew Death had a sense of humour? He glanced back at the mirror and spied something beneath his sweatshirt. Pulling the collar down, he exhaled and looked pointedly at Death.

_Mark of Magister de Morte._

Harry gazed at the 'mark'. It was the Hallows, triangle, circle, and line. The size of his fist and planted on his left pectoral, directly over his heart.

_Touch the mark if you seek my guidance, Magister._

"Yeah, that'll be all the time." Harry muttered, looking at the scar.

_No one must touch the mark Magister._

"Why?" Harry gave up his inspection to look at Death. Instead of answering, Death disappeared and the door opened to reveal a furious Fury. Harry snorted, Furious Fury!

"What the Hell are you laughing about?" Fury – chuckle – demanded.

"Don't worry." Harry said, trying to stop smiling but failing miserably. Fury's lips pressed into a thin line and Harry saw him forcibly relax his body.

"Tell me _Harry Potter_," said person cringed at the use of his full name, "According to our data, you. Don't. Exist."

"Well, that's" because I don't, "A bit harsh."

"Then why don't you tell me where you come from, so then it won't be "a bit harsh"."

"That is classified." Harry stated disinterestedly, glancing in the mirror to discover he no longer resembled an Inferi.

"Who tells you that it's classified?" Fury demanded.

"Me." Harry held Fury's gaze, thinking back to the times when he'd been too scared to meet Snape's, and realising just how very long ago that was.

"Then give me something to work with."

"Why?"

"Because I have the stupidest feeling that I can trust you." He admitted. Harry eyed him and sat back on the bed.

"Oh? And why is that?" Harry leaned against the wall with his hands behind his head and legs crossed, "Because something tells me you're not the trusting type."

"How very perceptive of you." Fury scowled when their staring contest continued, neither of them backing down.

"Tell me Director Fury," Harry leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees and chin resting on his linked fingers, "What makes you think you can trust me?"

* * *

Unnaturally green eyes bored into Fury's one good brown, seeking out his secrets and regrets. Harry Potter, despite his unearthly appearance still looked like a kid. Yet Fury has had a long career, one that has proven over and over again that age was nothing to some individuals, and the individual in front of him? His eyes held an age he hadn't even seen in Thor's or Loki's. An age and wisdom that made him weak in the knees and fluttery in the stomach. Something that told him he was less than a miniscule speck of universal dust, and that Harry Potter was more than all the nine realms. Fury took a step forward ignoring the feeling in him telling him to kneel and said, "You want to why?" Potter nodded his eyes still not straying from Fury's own.

"It's because I don't _think_, I can trust you. I _know_ I can trust you Mr Potter." Fury was going out on a whim, the memory of their earlier interview lending him some tactic.

"Mr Potter? My name's Harry, I haven't been called Mr Potter since school." Harry said with distaste. Fury filed away the titbit, noting how he never mentioned a 'father' reference.

"Will you help us _Harry_?" Said man rolled his eyes and replied, "I've already told you Fury, I'm all about saving people," and stuck his hand out. Fury finally broke eye contact and firmly shook Harry's hand.

"Welcome to the team." Harry snorted and started to pull his hand away but Fury held it in place and turned it slightly so he could see the top of Harry's hand. Faint scars caught his eyes and Harry snatched his hand back, but not before Fury had read them, _I must not tell lies._ Fury snapped his eyes up, just in time to see a flash of paler skin hide behind raven black hair. Fury whipped out his hand and shoved Harry's hair away from his forehead to reveal a perfect lightning bolt scar. Harry slipped out from under Fury's grasp and Fury pivoted to keep him in sight. His right hand was behind his back and his left hand was smoothing his hair back over the scar. A scowl marred his features and he snapped, "Why are you so bloody nosy?" And just like that, Fury saw a kid again. A kid abused and taught to hide his bruises.

"What happened to you Harry?" Fury demanded. Harry's jaw hardened and his eyes blazed.

"None of your bloody business." Before Fury could respond, Hill ran into the room, "Mr Stark's hacked into S.H.I.E.L.D databases."

"Thank you agent Hill, Harry come with me please." And with that he marched out of the cell and in the direction of Stark and Dr Banner's lab. Leaving a perplexed Hill and hesitant Harry.

"I'm guessing he doesn't usually say "please" and "thank you"." Harry observed. Hill quickly regained her composure and after telling him to follow Fury, left. Harry shrugged and did as he was told, still flattening his hair over his forehead. Summoning the Elder Wand when he got lost, Harry quickly cast a point-me charm before striding through sliding double doors and entering an extremely technologically advanced laboratory.

"Harry!" Stark exclaimed before returning to his screen and asking, "What is Phase Two?" A bang brought everyone's attention to Rogers dropping a very large gun-looking thing on a metal table.

"Phase Two is S.H.I.E.L.D uses the cube to make weapons. Sorry, computer was moving a little slow for me." He directed the last part directly at Stark.

"Rogers, we gathered everything related to the Tesseract, this does not mean that-"

"I'm sorry Nick, what were you lying?" Stark questioned, turning his screen for everyone to see.

"I was wrong Director," Rogers admitted, "The world hasn't changed a bit."

"Did you know about this?" Dr Banner inquired to Romanov as she entered with Thor.

"You want to think about removing yourself from this environment Doctor?" Romanov returned. Dr Banner laughed without humour.

"I was in Calcutta, I was pretty well removed."

"Loki's manipulating you."

"And you've been doing what exactly?"

'You didn't come here because I bat my eyelashes at you."

"Yes, and I'm not leaving because suddenly you get a little twitchy. I'd like to know, why S.H.I.E.L.D is using the Tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction." Everyone turned their gaze to Fury, waiting for an answer. Fury's gaze caught Harry's. Harry had the strangest feeling that he was asking him for guidance and so he nodded. Fury pointed at Thor and explained, "Because of him."

"Me?" Thor looked genuinely surprised.

"Last year, Earth had a visitor from another planet, who had a grudge match that levelled a small town. We not only learned that we are not alone. But we are hopelessly, hilariously, out-gunned."

"My people want nothing but peace with your planet."

"But you're not the only people out there are you?" Fury challenged, "And you're not the only threat. The world's filling up with people who can't be matched. They can't be controlled."

"Like you controlled the cube?" Rogers asked.

"You're work with the Tesseract is what drew Loki to it, and his allies." Thor pointed out. "It is a signal to all the realms that Earth is ready for a higher form of war."

"A higher form?" Rogers voiced.

"You forced our hand," Fury defended, "We had to come up with something-"

"A nuclear deterrent." Stark supplied, "'Cause that always calms everything right down."

"Remind me again how you made your fortune Stark?" Fury noted.

"I'm sure if Stark still made weapons he'd be neck deep-"

"Wait, wait, hold on, how is this now about me?"

"I'm sorry isn't everything?" Rogers retorted.

"I thought humans were more evolved than this." Thor said.

"Excuse me, do we come to your planet and blow stuff up?" Fury demanded. While everyone bickered, Harry's attention was drawn to the sceptre, it was making a keening noise and the orb was more active than when he'd last seen it. Harry padded towards it cautiously, everyone else oblivious to the aura coming off the thing. Less than half a metre away from it, Harry stopped and sent out tendrils of his magic, probing the sceptre's own unique 'magic'. He hissed as something resembling the Imperius Curse slithered over his magic and mind. His eyes flared brightly as he threw up shields unimaginable to those in his school years. The Tesseract's power crashed into his shields, trying to burrow into them. Harry hissed and forced the opposing magic away from his mind, a tingling on his chest grounding him.

_Magister?_

_Do not come!_

_Magister, let me assist you._

_No! Do not come near, this 'magic' is not to know of you._

_As you wish Magister._

Death's voice left his mind and Harry exhaled, not wanting to know how the Tesseract's power would affect Death. Neither did he want Loki to know about Death, considering he has a bond with the sceptre similar to a wand and its wizard. Another wave bombarded his shields and Harry clenched his teeth, gathering his magic up and hurling it at the attack. The power was thrown back and before it could reorganise itself, it disappeared. Harry blinked and shook his head, his surroundings came back and so did the sight of Dr Banner holding the sceptre. Immediately, he washed his magic over Dr Banner's mind, just in time before the Tesseract's own. Once again his magic fought on a mental plane and Harry thanked Merlin for having the newfound knowledge to do such a thing. A strange thought occurred to him, one so strange that he followed through.

_Leave them be!_

He broadcasted, the Tesseract hesitated and probed Harry's magic.

_Mine!_

The Tesseract eased slightly, leading Harry to discover it was in fact sentient.

_Leave._

The Tesseract retreated and Dr Banner put the sceptre down. Harry sighed in relief and regarded Dr Banner carefully, dispelling the lingering tendrils of the Tesseract.

"Oh my God." Dr Banner looked up, just before a massive explosion ruptured the helicarrier and sent everyone in different directions. Harry, Dr Banner and Romanov all crashed down onto a lower level.

"Merlin." Harry breathed, slowly rising, using a metal column for support.

"We're okay." Romanov reported. Dr Banner growled, flinging his head like a wet dog and clenching his hands into fists.

"We're okay right?" She asked.

"I suggest you leave Ms Romanov." Harry informed, the Elder Wand in his hand.

* * *

Natasha glanced at Harry, a retort on her lips that died very quickly. Three new accessories adorned Harry Potter. A cloak draped over his shoulders like water, a stick was held expertly in his hand, and a ring with an extraordinary stone blessed his finger. Harry turned his attention to her and she inhaled sharply, shadows accented his face whilst glowing green eyes peered at her.

"What are you?" She demanded.

"Perhaps for another time Ms Romanov." He said, aiming his stick in her direction. His lips moved and the debris restraining her leg lifted into the air and landed over a metre away.

"Swish and flick no more!" Harry declared. Natasha gave him a puzzled look.

"It's a long story." He explained. Both of their attentions were brought back to Dr Banner, who was turning green.

"Run!" Natasha instructed, jumping up and moving to stand in front of the kid.

"Ms Romanov?"

"What?"

"I'm not a child." Natasha spared him a glance and hesitated, a bitter smirk pulled at his lips while glowing eyes sparked with dry humour. Both things led her to the conclusion that Harry Potter never had a true childhood. A monstrous howl drew her attention to the lower level and she saw the imposing figure of the Hulk. A hand on her forearm returned her gaze to Harry.

"_Move_." He tugged on her arm and they were both running, her in the lead seeing as she knew the best escape route. They both paused when a growl emanated from behind them. Hulk looked over his shoulder and spotted them. Natasha noted the tensing in his muscles while a snarl curled his mouth.

"Move, Natasha." Harry muttered under his breath. They started running again, Natasha acting on instinct, climb the stairs, jump to the upper level, drop and roll, crawl and straighten. She unholstered her gun and only thought about Harry when said person lightly tapped her on the shoulder. He tapped his ear then pointed outwards, then pressed a finger to his lips, and waited until Natasha nodded. Listen and keep quiet. They both took silent steps, Natasha unwilling to admit that she was the only one who seemed to jump at every conspicuous sound.

"**ROOOOOAAAAAAARRRRR!**" Whipping around, Natasha aimed and fired at the pipe above Hulk, spraying gas, and ran, Harry hot on her heels. They sprinted through a narrow corridor, the cries of tearing metal right behind them. Run, run, run! Natasha screamed in her head, forcing herself to speed up, seeing an opening ahead. Just breaking through into the opening, she was bear hugged by Harry who took the brunt force of Hulk's hit. Harry twisted them around so that he also hit the wall, sparing Natasha of the concussion-inducing impact. Harry's hold on her slackened and she fears he's been knocked out, though unable to see because all her attention was needed on Hulk, who was coming closer.

* * *

Harry clenched his teeth and forced back the prying fingers of unconsciousness, blinking away the lingering spots and seeing through the haze. Hulk was less than two meters away and Harry shot a stunning spell that would have even put Grawp down. The spell hit Hulk in the chest, he faltered for a split second, and before he could regain his momentum, a silver and red blur tackled Hulk and they both crashed through a wall and into another room. Harry felt Romanov shudder against him.

"Deep breaths Natasha." He consoled, using her first name to centre her. Harry edged off the wall and from under Romanov, shimmying around until he faced her. Terrified, that's what Natasha Romanov looked like. The slight tremors running through her body, the wide and alert eyes, the short, sharp gasps, all too familiar in Harry's mind.

"Easy Natasha, you're alive and unhurt." He didn't dear touch her, the information supplied to him by Death was more than enough to know that contact given by someone she did not completely trust, would make matters a whole lot worse. A forced breath escaped her lips and some of her usual posture returned.

"No, I'm not hurt." She glanced at him, "But you are." Harry shook his head, "I'm fine Ms Romanov." Romanov didn't look convinced and before Harry could do anything she'd pulled the hem of his sweatshirt up, examining the wondrous bruise flourishing upon his lower back.

"This is not fine." She pointed out, gently probing the tender spot.

"To be honest Ms Romanov, it's probably the most moderate injury I've ever had." Was his wry response.

"Call me Natasha."

"Wow, first name basis? I thought that only happened to acquaintances and above?" Natasha scowled as Harry nimbly removed himself from her reach.

"Why must you always turn a serious situation into a joke?"

"Because it's been my experience that seriousness leads to sorrowful events." He explained truthfully. Ro- Natasha, opened her mouth to reply but paused and seemed to listen to something. She pressed her finger to her ear and reported, "This is Agent Romanov, I copy." She signalled for him to follow, giving him a look saying 'this is not over' and started walking. Well, that was a close one, he noted drearily before falling in step with Natasha.


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N:  
****Hello... Sorry it's been quite a long time and I know I said that I'd update every weekend... But school started and homework hit me like the Hulk and my computer had decided to delete all my work not once or twice but _thrice. S_o, I apologise for the long wait and I'll to to update every second weekend from now on. Also thank you to all who reviewed! It really does mean a lot to me :) And without further ado, onto the chapter!  
**

**Chapter Three**

Harry sensed Clint Barton before they actually saw him. The Tesseract's power leaked from Barton's delicate mind like black tar. Harry stayed back as Natasha approached Barton and didn't even move forward when they engaged in a very hostile fight. Instead, he focused on Barton's mind, the Tesseract's power dripping through his brainwaves and controlling everything. His magic neared and the Tesseract 'hissed' at him, so, even when split off from the core group it communicates.

_Leave!_

The Tesseract clung onto Barton, daring him to tear it away.

_Mine, leave what is mine!_

The Tesseract shuddered but held, burrowing deeper in an effort to escape Harry's magic. Gritting his teeth, Harry wondered how he was going to remove the damn power. It was too integrated in Barton's mind, so he wouldn't be able to shield it from him seeing as it was already _in_ his mind. There was also more of the Tesseract's power, seeing as it was injected straight into Barton, so a power play would only make it resist harder. It obviously wasn't going to listen to him that had already been proven. So what could he do? An idea whispered in his mind and he considered it. Legilimency? He'd never been able to properly cast it, only once with Snape but that was pure luck and anger on his part. But… he also now had the knowledge gifted to him by Death, as well as skills that he'd have never been able to acquire were he still mortal.

"Legilimens," Harry whispered, he slipped into Barton's already tampered mind with ease, memories rose up eagerly but Harry discarded them. He was only looking for one thing and many things he found. The Tesseract's power was everywhere, lurking through Barton's mind in thick, hypnotising tendrils. Harry latched onto one of the tendrils, enveloping it within his magic and crushing it into smithereens. Distantly, Harry felt himself collapse to the ground. The remaining tendrils tensed and grouped together, Harry just repeated his process using more and more magic each time. Slowly, ever so slowly, the Tesseract's power loosened its hold on Barton. Harry discovered another tendril and quickly smothered it, he 'turned' and was greeted by the surviving power, easily tripled what he'd previously vanquished and much more angry.

_Leave._

It shuddered again but held. Harry edged nearer and noticed the way it seemed to creep away from him. He lunged and was quickly enveloped. Power pressed down at him from all sides, coaxing him to open his mind and let it rule.

_Leave._

It pushed harder, the pressure starting to become unbearable. What in Merlin's name had he gotten himself into? And how the Hell was he not dead or one of Loki's minions yet? Harry heard his breathing falter in the distance.

_**LEAVE! **_

Harry exploded outwards, forcing the Tesseract's control to slip from Barton's mind. Bloody Hell, who knew breathing was so hard? And why is everything fuzzy? His eyes were fixed! Natasha's blurry form entered his vision.

"Hry? Hry? Me?" Her voice was muffled yet annoyingly loud.

"Sod off Natasha or at least don't yell." He growled shaking his head and clearing his vision very quickly.

"Harry, can you hear me?" She repeated.

"Yes I can bloody well hear you." Natasha exhaled. Harry shook his head again, more so in annoyance than anything else and started to stand but Natasha's hand kept him still.

"What?" He snapped.

"Do you feel any pain?"

"I'm fine Natasha." He rolled his eyes and stood up, dodging her grasping arms. For once he was actually telling the truth, his vision was restored and his magic rolled beneath his skin in happy waves.

"Harry," he turned his attention back on her, "Look down." He did as he was told, and blinked.

"How did that get there?" Curling his hands around the shaft of the arrow embedded in his chest, he slowly pulled it out and held it up to inspect.

"Barton had fired multiple arrows at me." Natasha explained.

"Ah, that makes sense."

"How are you..?" Natasha trailed off as she gaped at his chest. Following her lead, Harry saw the potentially fatal wound heal without leaving a scar.

"Erm, I can explain?"

"I'm all ears."

"Um…" Natasha crossed her arms over her chest and took a stance saying 'I'm not leaving until you tell me'. Harry looked at everything apart from her, the floor, ceiling, Barton's unconscious body, the floor again...

Natasha regarded Harry coolly, cataloguing every tiny little detail: like the way his body was tense, the hunched shoulders, the nervous hand combing through already unruly hair, and the eyes flitting about nervously. All were neon signs saying loud and clear that Harry Potter was not a trained professional, or that he was even better than _her_. Natasha sifted through her mind, gleaming up the information Director Fury had supplied to her when she'd been ordered to bring Harry back in. Back when he was just Mr Potter. The information file was achingly bare, only half a page long and filled with vague, missing-twenty-eight-pieces-of-the-puzzle facts, so that even Natasha had to struggle to create a picture of the elusive teenager. After detaining him, Natasha had been sent to Director Fury to give her analysis on the prisoner and she'd been ashamed to note that it was the least detailed report she had ever given.

_-flashback-_

"_Agent Romanov." Fury greeted her in his usual dour tone, but the note of impatience and curiosity was tangible enough for Natasha to pick up on._

"_His name is Harry Potter," she waited as Fury typed the name into the search database, not even asking if she thought it was false. Because if it was, she wouldn't have told him._

"_Is he an asset?" He questioned, looking back up at her._

"_He'll choose our side over Loki's, you were right, he does seem to have a hero complex. One possibly even larger than Mr Roger's." She replied, "He came willingly, once he noticed that a fight would have ensued."_

"_Good, I can work him in then. So, he doesn't want people getting hurt?"_

"_More likely he doesn't want people getting hurt because of him."_

"_Past experience?"_

"_That was my conclusion." This was how the majority of their conversations went, to the point and precise._

"_Is the accent real?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Is he human?"_

"_No," Natasha clenched her teeth, knowing how her answer contradicted her previous one, "His actions around us were of someone who knew they weren't in danger. He was completely relaxed when I arrived and only gave me a bored glance." She didn't say that out of annoyance, both of them knew that she could make anyone wary, including Loki when it was needed._

"_He's not Asgardian," Fury paused and Natasha waited for the 'but' that was about to occur, "But he's not from any of the nine realms either."_

"_Sir, that's not possible." She reminded, keeping her growing dread out of her expression. Fury gave her a knowing look, "Apparently it is."_

"_How?" That one question echoed in her mind and in the room._

"_Thor informed me that Mr Potter is not from any of the other realms."_

"_How does he know?"_

"_Because the only way to travel through the realms is the Bifrost and that is in Asgard."_

"_Meaning that Thor would have known if anyone had used it. But what about the way Loki arrived?"_

"_The Tesseract has been monitored ever since we took it out of the ice. No one, or thing has ever come through without us knowing. Is that all Agent Romanov?"_

"_His past has not been kind to him." Fury eyed her seriously, "What led you to that conclusion?"_

"_His eyes are very expressive. Shall I go now sir?" Fury studied her for a moment before dismissing her. Natasha walked out and headed for the area Loki was being held in, all the while shutting the unwanted feelings towards Harry Potter in a little box, safe within her mind._

_-end flashback-_

That little box was still in her mind, albeit much larger and possibly starting to burst at the seams. She definitely felt a protectiveness around Harry, such a ludicrous emotion but she couldn't help it. Especially now, when he looked so young and lost.

"Harry, what are you?" Said person whipped their head around so fast she could almost hear the bones snapping.

"What do you mean what am I?" His eyes were guarded and his body language read defensive.

"You're not human, not from Earth and not from any of the other realms." Natasha said calmly. Harry threw his hands up in the air and shook his head, "What bloody realms?"

Merlin! This was just not going well, there was already a psychotic demigod interested in him, along with a very paranoid superspy and now he's just reached the top of Natasha's discover-all-of-his-secrets list.

"The nine realms, Earth is one, Asgard is another." Natasha answered.

"Um…"

"Where did you come from?"

"Somewhere…"

"_Where_ Harry?"

"A place similar to Earth." He admitted.

"_Where?_"

"Merlin! Why are you people so bloody nosy?!" He exclaimed. They both turned when two guards in S.H.I.E.L.D uniforms approached and Natasha signalled for them to take Barton away. Her attention returned back to Harry but she didn't say anything, instead, her breathing came a bit harsher and she shook almost imperceptibly.

"Natasha?"

"Agent Coulson is dead." She said stiffly, "Director Fury wants you to meet him and the others at the bridge. Do you remember the way?"

"Yes," he said quietly, watching as Natasha gave a curt nod and left. Seeing as he was alone in the 'corridor' Harry slipped a hand beneath his sweatshirt and brushed the mark.

_Magister?_

"Why am I here Death?"

_Balance must be restored Magister._

"And how am I supposed to bring balance to this place? Or any for that matter?"

_There are individuals in all dimensions who are Anchorams, Magister._

"Anchors? What the Hell does that mean?" Harry let his hand fall back to his side and glared at Death.

_Anchorams are what keep the dimensions existing, Magister._

"…what?" Harry really needed to start teaching Death the modern English.

_Perhaps a visual description will be better Magister._

"Yeah, sorry…" Harry mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

_Need not apologise, Magister._

Then Harry was standing in a blank landscape, all was just an infinite black as far as the eye could see. Floor and ceiling were discernible, leading to the thought that it was all a never-ending room. Something sparked to life far away, then another closer, and another, and another until multiple glowing pillars stood strong and proud against the barren room. Harry moved closer to the one nearest to him and took note that it was indeed, a glowing column holding up the vast ceiling. Further inspection revealed that roots from the pillar had burrowed themselves into the floor and ceiling. Guessing the columns are anchors, and the room is… a dimension? A light blinking out directed his attention away from his thoughts. Another one died and the ceiling sagged. The one in front of him withered into nothingness and the roof caved in even more. And that's how it happened, a column disappeared, the roof got weaker. One by one the pillars vanished and the ceiling broke against its own weight, not able to stay intact without the support. Harry gasped as the last beam fluttered out of existence and then the whole room crashed in on itself. When he opened his eyes, Harry was back in the corridor and Death was waiting patiently.

_Do you understand Magister?_

"Yeah, the anchors support the dimension, and if they die then the dimension dies with them." He summarised, "You could have just said that you know."

_I shall try in the future, Magister._

"That would be helpful, thank you." He smiled at Death and waved goodbye as it vanished, much like the columns. Shaking the unsettling thought out of his mind, Harry started walking back to the bridge.

A heaviness cloaked the room as Harry entered, three sets of dull eyes latched onto him and followed as he walked to the table and kept standing. Stark and Rogers were the only ones sitting while Fury also stood. Natasha's absence was expected as she'd most likely be with Agent Barton, but where was everyone else? A glance a Fury yielded no answers, the only thing noticeable was the bloodied cards in his hands.

"These were in Phil Coulson's jacket," Fury started, raising his hands to reveal the cards, "Guess he never did get you to sign them," and with that he threw the cards onto the table towards Rogers. Rogers leaned forward and picked up a card, staring at it sadly as Fury kept talking.

"… Maybe I had that coming." Fury continued, shaking his head slightly as a bitter smile tugged at a corner of his mouth. "Yes," He started walking around the table, "We were going to build an arsenal, with the Tesseract. I never put all my chips on that number though, 'cause I was playing something even riskier." He paused and looked at the three of them in turn, "There was an idea -Stark, knows this - called the Avengers Initiative. The idea was to bring together a group of, remarkable people. To see if they could become something more, to see if they could work together when we needed them to. To fight the battles that we never could" He turned his gaze to Stark's back, "Phil Coulson died, believing in that idea. In heroes." Stark stood up abruptly, his body stiff, and walked away, not looking back.

"Well, it's an old-fashioned notion." Fury sighed. Rogers also stood up and excused himself, heading in the same direction as Tony. Harry waited until Rogers was out of sight before fixing Fury with a glare.

"What?" He snapped.

"I know that manipulating people is you're career, I also know that you've manipulated me. And that's fine, I'm an unknown, or at least was." Harry folded his arms across his chest, "But manipulating your own team?" He shook his head in disdain.

"Oh, and pray tell _how,_ I've just manipulated them?" Fury's mouth was a thin line.

"Director, I've been manipulated since the age of one, and they only got better with every passing year-"

"And why were you manipulated? If you think it's so horrible, why'd they do it to you?"

"Long story short, I was like a pig being fattened up for slaughter. The only reason why I was protected was so I could die at the right time. _But_," he carried on, practically seeing the other questions whirring around in Fury's head, "We are talking about how you said that Phil Coulson is dead." Fury narrowed his eyes at Harry, "He is dead."

"No, he is not." Really, the nerve of some people, trying to tell _the Master of Death_ that someone was dead! Although said people don't _know_, that he's the Master of Death.

"Agent Hill?" Said agent stepped forward almost immediately, "Is Agent Coulson dead?"

"Yes sir, the medical team determined his death seventeen minutes ago."

"May I just point out that both of you are super spies, and the medical team works for you so they can lie just as easily."

"Phil Coulson is dead, what in the world could make you think otherwise?" Fury ground out.

"A friend of mine told me." Harry answered, letting a sickly innocent tone wash over his voice.

"What 'friend'?"

"An old one." Harry smiled to himself and enjoyed seeing the artery in Fury's neck jump out.

"Will we be able to meet this friend?"

"One day." Everyone meets Death in the end, "But we are getting off topic Director, why fake Agent Coulson's death? Stark and Rogers obviously felt as though it was their faults. Why lead them on?" Harry stepped closer to Fury, all the while wondering aloud, "Unless you mean to use Coulson as a martyr so this 'team' of yours would join together in a common cause? But that seems to be a bit low, even for you Fury." The Director's jaw was clenched so hard it had to hurt and Harry was almost certain that the artery in his neck was trying to escape from beneath the skin.

"Phil Coulson is-"

"_Alive_, you can stop acting Director Fury. I know he's not dead and you will accept the fact that I know." Harry took one step closer and closed the gap between him and Fury, forcing himself to have to tilt his head up slightly to see into the spy's eye.

"You want to know why Mr Potter? The Avengers Initiative can only work if they themselves find the motivation and determination to _make,_ it work." There was no need to ask who 'they' were.

"Do you think it will work?"

"Yes."

"Was there another way?"

"Yes." Not even a 'this was the best option' or 'the opportunity was the best we would ever have'.

"Then I hope you know what you're doing Nick Fury," Harry slipped away from Fury and headed in the direction of Stark and Rogers, "Because I'm tired of saving the world," tossed over his shoulder with a mischievous smirk pulling at his lips.

Yelling led Harry to a circular room with a conspicuous space in the middle and an operational trap door on the floor below the noticeable space.

"… This the first time you've lost a soldier?" Rogers asked as Stark brushed past him.

"We are _not_ soldiers," Stark snapped, spinning around to face the Captain.

"You think soldiers are the only ones capable of defending, Mr Stark?" Harry questioned calmly, they turned to look at him, both with surprise written over their faces. Obviously they hadn't heard him approach. "Soldiers are men exactly like you, the only difference? They've been given training and know how to take orders."

"And how would you know?" Stark bit out, "How would you know the difference? How does a _kid_ like you understand? How _could_ you possibly understand?" Well one thing's for certain, Mr Stark has never lost a companion before.

"My country was at war before I was born Mr Stark. My parents and their friends played a big part in helping to defeat the enemy and so they became top-of-the-list targets. At the age of one, they were murdered because someone they had trusted betrayed them. I was the only one who survived, so I was sent into hiding for eleven years. The enemy had been defeated during that time and everyone thought that he really was dead, but instead, in my first year at Hogwarts, he returned and started killing people again. For seven years my country was in yet another civil war and my school kept being targeted. Life threatening situations happened annually despite the Headmaster's best efforts and my group always got mixed up in it. On the seventh year, a battle happened at my school and many students and teachers alike died until the enemy was finally and truly dead.

"My life has known nothing but war Mr Stark, and _soldiers_ did not end the final battle. People who were forced to survive and protect those they cared about one the war. So don't you bloody tell _me_ what I do and do not know." Harry finished with a glare.

"I know I haven't been around for quite a while," Rogers started, earning the attention of Stark and Harry, "But I'm pretty sure I would've heard about a civil war in Britain."

"I haven't heard of it either and I _know_ that that is simply not possible." Stark commented. Harry rolled his eyes and looked up to the heavens before fixing them both with an infuriatingly patient look. He held up his hand, revealing his wand and hid the smirk that threatened to appear from Stark's facial expression. "Seeing as how Fury knows I'm not from around here and I haven't exactly hidden the fact well anyway. I might as well give you a little explanation. This," he nodded towards the Elder Wand, "Is a wand, I'm sure you've heard of those."

"What? So you're a wizard?" Stark scoffed. Harry grinned and carried on, "Why yes Mr Stark, I am, in fact, a wizard. I'm from a different universe where magical folk live in secret amongst non-magical folk." Harry's grin grew wider at Stark's face.

"A wizard?" Rogers questioned, somewhat hesitantly.

"Yes Captain, you don't need to worry about an invasion of any sort seeing as no one can pass through universes."

"You obviously did." Stark quipped, "How?"

"That is classified, as I have already told Director Fury. I am a wizard from another universe and my speciality is fighting for the good side." Harry gave them both a pointed look before slipping the wand into his magically enhanced back pocket.

"So, you're not going to turn us into toads?" Stark intoned, earning an eye roll from Harry.

"No Mr Stark, I am not going to turn you into a toad. Now, let's get back to the topic at hand, Loki." Stark's face turned pinched while Rogers' became grim.

"What's his play? All supervillians have a play, whether they want to become immortal and rule the world…"

"He made it personal," Stark realised.

"That's not the point." Rogers started.

"That is the point, that's Loki's point, he hit us all right where we live, why?"

"To tear us apart," Rogers answered.

"Yeah, divide and conquer's great, but he knows he has to take us out to win right? _That's_ what he wants. He wants to beat us he, wants to be _seen_ doing it. He wants an audience."

"Right, we caught his act in Stuttgart."

"That's just previews. This is, this is opening night! And Loki, he's a full-tilt diva, he wants flowers, he wants parades, he wants a, monument built to the sky with his name plastered- son of a bitch." Stark muttered the last part and started walking. Rogers and Harry following behind.

"I don't suppose the Stark tower happens to have "Stark" plastered across it?" Harry inquired lightly. The dirty look Stark gave him was all the answer he needed.

"Captain, you get Natasha and head to the flight deck, I'll go suit up." And with that Stark veered off to the left and disappeared.

"Guessing that means you'll need to 'suit up' as well?" Harry asked Rogers who nodded.

"Meet you in the infirmary section then," Harry turned left at the next intersection and followed through with his excuse.

It took him a few moments to find the right cell – er, room – with Barton and Natasha. He cast an unlocking charm at the door and leaned against the now open entrance, Natasha was standing by the bed while said bed was suspiciously void of any Clint Barton's.

"You know how to fly one of those jets?" Harry asked her.

"I can," came a reply from the adjoining bathroom, Clint Barton stood there drying his hands.

"Brilliant!"

"Why do you need to know?" Natasha demanded, Harry gave her his most innocent expression and answered, "Because we need to steal one and go to New York without the big bad Director stopping us."

"Who are you?" Harry returned his attention to Clint who continued, "I swear I heard your voice in my head while I was…" He trailed off and glanced at Natasha, obviously referring to the fight they'd had earlier. Harry saw Natasha focusing on him from the corner of his eye. Before he could say anything Rogers appeared in his Captain America get-up.

"Barton can fly and isn't compromised," Harry supplied before the Captain could even open his mouth. A nod from Natasha led Rogers to acquiescing and asking Barton, "You got a suit?"

"Yeah."

"Then suit up," Rogers left and motioned for Harry to follow.

"Do you have a suit?" He asked once they were walking down an obscenely long corridor.

"Uh, wearing it?" Harry answered, looking down at his dirty jeans, dirty hoodie, _very _dirty sneakers and the Hallows.

"That cloak, it will be a hindrance." Rogers warned.

"Quite the opposite actually." Harry responded, still criticising his outfit. Jeans and a sweatshirt really aren't 'battle-ready' material, but it was the same kind of ensemble he wore whilst defeating Tom. Maybe he should change it, this isn't his universe after all and everyone else is wearing cool outfits…

"Harry!?" Said person jumped and fixed his startled eyes upon Rogers.

"Er, yeah?"

"I said we're here." Harry peered about the room and noticed they were in a hangar of some sort and Natasha and Barton were approaching.

"Yeah, sorry, my mind was somewhere else…" He trailed off as Barton and Natasha met up with them.

"What?" Barton asked when he noticed Harry looking at him.

"You all have awesome outfits," he explained huffily. Natasha raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him.

"What?" Harry echoed Barton's earlier exclamation.

"We're about to go on an unauthorised mission to try and save the world from an alien invasion and you're sulking over our outfits?"

"Hey! I am _not_ sulking." Harry said, mentally wincing at the very sulk-like tone to his voice. That earned him eye rolls from all three of them, Harry raised his hands up in surrender and turned towards one of the jets that was so kindly opened and with just one person inside.

"How about that one?"

"It's as good as any," Barton replied and they all marched off. Really, it was a very march-like stride that gained a few stares and Harry smiled not so sanely at them. When they entered the jet, the one person in it – most likely a maintenance officer – stood up and stated, "Hey, you guys aren't authorised to be in here."

"Son, just don't." Rogers advised. The officer's eyes flitted between them all before he swallowed thickly. Barton, grabbed the officer by his forearm and hauled him out of the jet. They all took their seats, Barton and Natasha in pilot and co-pilot while Rogers and Harry were in the back.

"Everyone ready?" Stark's voice entered through the intercoms. Harry's "No" was heard over the others "Yes's".

"I don't have a custom-made outfit!"

"You're a wizard, can't you just magic something better?" Stark inquired.

"A _what?_" Barton and Natasha demanded.

"Tony Stark, you are genius!" Harry declared, transfiguring his jeans into black cargo pants and his sweatshirt into a close-fitting long-sleeved shirt (black of course).

"That's the point young Harry." Stark's voice was the only thing not filled with shock.

"Oh for the love Merlin, _what?_" Harry broadcasted to the interior of the jet.

"Your clothes-"

"They were-"

"How'd you do that?" Were the responses.

"Magic guys," Harry rolled his eyes, "Honestly! It's out in the open now, might as well make the most of it."

"What are you guys doing in there? It's time to _go!_" Stark reminded them. Almost coming out of a daze, Barton started up the engine and took off. They were out in the open air in no time, with Stark zipping in front of them and leading the way. Harry lifted his hand up to fix his glasses but only met air, shaking his head he slipped the Elder Wand back into his hand and waited. Maybe this battle would be easier, seeing as there were no magic users and no killing curses… Right?


End file.
